


A Yellow Wood

by writerdragonfly



Series: Diverged in a Yellow Wood [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dorian Pavus Feels, F/F, F/M, Heartache, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Platonic Relationships, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23075896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerdragonfly/pseuds/writerdragonfly
Summary: Choosing the mages wasn’t supposed to end like this. The Venatori have no idea what’s coming for them.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor & Dragon Age: Inquisiton Ensemble, Female Lavellan & Dorian Pavus, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Potential Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Potential Female Lavellan/Sera
Series: Diverged in a Yellow Wood [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658602
Kudos: 6





	A Yellow Wood

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve started working on this again so I’ll post the first chapter here. This project was originally started for Rough Trade July 2018.
> 
> For background information on Sentinels and Guides _in this canon_ , please see _**[Codex: The Lost Pages](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23077738/chapters/55204399)**_. This is also listed as part two of the series.
> 
>  **Brief Glossary** *  
> Enansal: Gifted as a Sentinel or Guide  
> Panelan: Sentinel  
> Amelan: Guide  
> *Repurposed Elven

* * *

**  
  
**

_“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.” -Robert Frost_

* * *

**  
  
Choice. **

Somehow she had thought it would be the easier choice. 

It wasn’t as if she had any strong opinions one way or the other about who would be best to serve the Inquisition. She was a hunter, a rogue, more at home with a bow and quiver than with magic or sword. She didn’t have any dark secrets in her past that made her more or less likely to side with Mages or Templars. Her clan was one who didn’t find anything wrong with magic, was one who openly embraced humans. Ellana herself had this deep desire to make her _own_ choices, and a choice like _who can help_ **me** save them was a far bigger one than she had ever expected to make.

In the end, she hadn’t known what to do except that she thought the open offer to the Inquisition made the mage rebellion the _easier choice_.

By the time they reached Redcliffe, she somehow knew that something was seriously wrong _in Redcliffe._

Still, she didn’t know _what_ was wrong. It didn’t take a mage to feel the wrongness thrumming beneath them.

The Gull and the Lantern was a dimly lit pub at the edge of Redcliffe, windows unevenly boarded up and the air twinkling with errant sparks and early afternoon dust. It was empty, mostly, but Ellana recognizes Fiona as soon as she enters. The woman was paler than usual--even in the dim light--but she was still recognizable as the woman who had requested their presence back in Val Royeaux just a few weeks prior, short-cropped dark hair, nearly colorless eyes and the pointed ears that marked her as elven.

“Welcome, Agents of the Inquisition,” Fiona says, her mouth a startlingly even line across her face, “What has brought you to Redcliffe?”

Ellana feels the already tumultuous feeling in her stomach spread. _Something was_ ** _very_** _wrong here._

“We’re here because of your invitation back in Val Royeaux,” Ellana answers, keeping her voice as steady as she can manage given the circumstance. 

Fiona’s face doesn’t change but for a brief, lingering moment, there’s something in her eyes that does. But then the elf shakes her head slightly, her pale eyes still firmly pointed in Ellana’s direction. 

“You must be mistaken. I haven’t been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.”

What Fiona says after confuses and frightens Ellana. _Indentured._ The Grand Enchanter _indentured._ Something is wrong. Ellana had known there was something wrong as soon as they had closed the rift and been let into the city, but somehow she hadn’t expected how wrong things truly were. 

As an elf, the idea that any of her brethren would indenture themselves to _Tevinter_ of all places made her sick. What had happened that would cause such a strong and bright woman such as Fiona?

Magister Gereon Alexius’ interruption and subsequent words do little to salve the fury rising in Ellana’s chest and, in fact, do little else but make it worse. 

Then Felix, the magister’s _son_ , stumbles into her, and Ellana knows, without a doubt, that there is far more going on than she knows. 

-x-

She doesn’t look at the note the young Alexius had slipped into her fingers until she’s certain they have left. Perhaps the other denizens of the pub would report her to the magister and his son as having received it--many more had made their way inside or come out of hidden places once the men had left--but maybe they would not. 

She reads the unsigned message to herself once, twice, before reading it aloud to her companions.

“Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.”

As if she wasn’t _already_ in a great deal of danger. There was a breach breaking open the sky, hundreds of rifts twisting open across Thedas. Demons were everywhere and the mages and templars were _still fighting._

It was probably a trap, something specifically designed to lure them in some fantastic plot to part the “ _Herald of Andraste_ ” from her head. 

Probably. 

But, Ellana knew before she even finished reading the note to herself that she would go. There was something _wrong_ going on and she was determined to figure out what it was. 

-x-

The Chantry itself was mostly dark when they entered, but for the almost blinding green light of a new rift hovering in the air near the altar and illuminating the benches. There was a man there too--a dark-haired mage--yelling something about helping, but the sheer number of demons took her attention away from him. Sera and Iron Bull jumped into the fray immediately, Cassandra only taking a second to lock eyes before she too pulled out her weapon. Ellana knew it would be a fierce and bloody battle—the lesser shade that struck at her before she released her arrow was stronger than anticipated. 

But this was a battle, and within the past few months with The Inquisition—even back when she was still a suspect, a prisoner—they had yet to fail, to fall. 

Too much relied on their success. 

Her arms ached from where a particular quick demon had grabbed her hard enough to bruise and there was a slow trickle of blood sliding down her cheek, but she was alive. They all were, all five of them still standing when she pulled the rift close with her hand closed around the mark tight enough that her nails pressed crescent-shaped bruises into her palm. 

But it was done. The sloppy remnants of the rift and demon spawn had splattered with a sickening sound on the smooth stone of the Chantry floor, even where the expensive carpeting covered. 

And the man. The man watched, something like enraptured as the bright green dimmed and faded away. 

“Fascinating. How does that work exactly?” the man asks, pausing as he turns to face Ellana, “You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom, rift closes.” 

“Who are you?” Ellana asks him, taking him in. Golden skin, silky black hair, carefully groomed. Expensive Tevinter style clothing, but still utility. A man who knew he was pretty, embraced it, but who could also handle himself in battle. A mage. 

“Dorian of House Pavus. Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable—as I’m sure you can imagine.” 

Yes, _if_ he was honest about assisting them. Ellana didn’t know if he was. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to tell even if she were Enansal—Panelan _or_ Amelan. 

  
  


“Where’s Felix? I was expecting to meet him here,” Ellana asks, bringing Pavus’ attention to her as her companions slowly moved outward to surround him. 

  
  


“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Pavus says with a hand waving gesture, “He was to give you the note, then meet us here, after ditching his father.”

The conversation is stilted for a bit after that. Ellana doesn’t know how to reach their intended topic any more than Pavus seemed to. It hung there, like a blood-lusted tusket in the room 

After what felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than a few moments, Pavus _did_ bring it up again. 

“To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”

“I hope that’s less dangerous than it sounds,” Ellana blurts because it sounds _terrifying._ Not just the idea that someone would risk something so illogical and dangerous, but that they would think that _distorting time_ was necessary at all. And for what? _Her?_

“More,” Pavus admits to her, “The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it’s unraveling the world.”

Perfect, Ellana thinks, just what we need. _More world-ending bullshit._

-x-

Time magic. A cult. Venatori. It sounded ridiculous, the whole idea of it. But, Ellana was already drowning in the horrific reality of the past few months since the Breach. What was one more inch of water? What was one less rock beneath her feet?

Dorian Pavus, Felix Alexius. They were warning her of something dark. Perhaps, something more than they could handle. 

But, there was a stirring in her gut that told her that _whatever_ was going on, she couldn’t ignore it. 

_Fucking Venatori._

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to comment~!
> 
> Hit me up anywhere to harangue me into writing the next chapter, talk fic, fandom, or whatever catches your fancy.  
> [Tumblr: writerdragonfly](https://writerdragonfly.tumblr.com)  
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